Birth, Death, and The Life In Between
by Idiosyncracy
Summary: Memories are often reserved for only the happiest of moments;Why would there be room for anything else? Sirius Black happens to be a lot of things. One thing he is not, is normal. And Remus is keen enough to notice that something is hitting close to home.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Uh-oh. I'm starting a Harry Potter fanfic? Well, let's start with an introduction shall we? I'm Idiosyncracy (with a C). I've recently been converted to a Harry Potter fan girl.**

**So let's clapclapclap and go YAY for HC!**

**But either way, I'm sure as hell a proud one! See, anime and all things Japanese was initially my kind of style, but with the (quite forced) help of a dear friend, my writing mind broadened! **

**So give it up for KitKatPyrophobia! I swear, school hasn't been the same since we met all those years ago…Nonetheless, it's been great. I've even watched A Very Potter Musical, what, three times now?**

**Anyway, I'm trying to keep this short and quite sweet. Without further ado, let the reading ensue! **

**Dislcaimer: Well this is the first time I've said this: I don't own Harry Potter**

* * *

_"In restless dreams I walked alone  
Narrow streets of cobblestone,  
'Neath the halo of a street lamp,  
I turned my collar to the cold and damp  
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light  
That split the night  
And touched the sound of silence."_

_- __**Simon and Garfunkel "The Sound of Silence"**_

* * *

The air was thick with silence. The only audibility was that that of the broad wire ropes, lowering the hunkering grandiose wooden frame, occasionally protesting the few wrenching movements.

The skies hung heavy with malice; an ethereal weight seemed prepared to rip the very seams of the clouds. They rumbled with a low, perilous hum to the east, foreboding yet another nightly storm in London. The many shades of grey of the area— grass, trees, clouds—dismally complimented the many shades of black on the ground.

The silence was broken by a woeful woman's scream.

She collapsed pitifully, clutching a black laced handkerchief while, once beautifully applied, make-up messily ran down her pallor-stricken face.

Deteriorating, she was.

The cool porcelain of her exterior, hardened by her infamous family name, chipped and marred with every deluge of emotion. All that she was probably most capable of doing was clearly lost by that moment.

The black mass around her remained silent; only one sympathetic man offered aid to the widow's physical, and soon to be mental, instability. The oak-darkened coffin relentlessly lowered, mockingly creaking and swaying into the earth.

Cruel reality began seeping into one particular young boy, dreadfully observant and aware, just as a single icy raindrop made a landing atop his raven-black head. He glanced around at the shapeless faces of all colors and origins around him.

Death stared back.

He looked at his widowed mother, deceased father, and his two shivering younger brothers. Save for the now-relentlessly pelting needles of ice, the air was thick with silence.

These types of scenes were far from new for Sirius Black. Though, he couldn't help but feel horrible empathy for that of the boy in front of him.

While a cluster of nearly one hundred people crowded the lowering coffin, all splendidly dressed in the finest blacks and grays of fabrics, the fifteen-year-old boy was quite plainly clothed in his regular school attire; a Hogwarts robe, fitted for his growing Fifth Year body, a Gryffindor crest proudly displayed on his chest, barely fended off the pangs of chills that dribbled through the cloth. Rubbing his arms for comfortable friction, he could only look at his watch.

Any moment now that memory, like the many others, would be over.

He waited as the ancient-looking wizard ahead of the crowed droned on with dry, shallowly-sympathetic words of remembrance of the poor bloke who'd lost his life.

"We gather here today in the remorse and remembrance of—" The name blurred.

As the time continued to tick on, he thought he might as well absorb his surroundings for the time being. Who knew when or if it would ever serve him purpose? The beyond-dead grass beneath his school shoes crunched loudly, making it the only other sound accompanying the man's voice and the wrenching ropes.

Not many seemed to be too upset at the loss of who he guessed to be the woman's husband; quite frankly, they seemed to be more self-concerned than they were for the poor woman. He even saw one man glance at his wristwatch, and then pick at his nails.

How bad Sirius felt for the dead man was immeasurable. Must've not been one of the more popular wizards.

Sirius began to think spitefully of the time being wasted in yet another dreary memory while he had more than enough tests to study for back in class. And, though none of the dreary London rain even touched him or his clothes, he was steadily becoming irritated at the scene that wasn't showing any signs of ending. A roar of thunder sounded as a clap of lightning followed; it's close and dear friend.

Only minutes later, the air began to thicken and become solid. Sirius was more than ready for this feeling to finally return. He couldn't afford to miss another lesson of Potions at his failing rate.

As he closed his eyes, he felt the unpleasantly-familiar slurping feeling; his body felt as if it was being lifted up and trough a dense tube.

What felt like his feet left the dead crunchy grass of the gloomy cemetery, and his mind was painfully thrown into his body, which was comfortably placed in a position as if he'd been sleeping in class all along.

The collision into his body gave his body a start; he jolted forward. His head, which had been positioned to lean most of his weight into his hands, comically collided with the desk in front of him with a muffled _thump_. Remus Lupin, two seats to his right, had let out a discreet snort of laughter.

As his black eyelashes fluttered open, he squinted in the poor lighting of Potions class, rubbing his rapidly-reddening forehead.

Shoving Remus in the shoulder for being amused at his pain, he could guess nothing of substantial importance had been missed, as Professor Slughorn continued to painfully murmur on with class. Omni-colored spots cartwheeled across his sight before tauntingly fading.

He took a sweeping glance of the room, testing other's reactions. Most were staring off with dull expression in every odd way; others were creatively doodling and looking up occasionally, appearing as if they were taking notes. Some were staring, probably too intently, at the professor, as if in dire attempt to beat the painful drone of a lecture in their minds.

But another good portion of the classroom had checked out, just as he did, for the day.

Almost immediately after he roused, a crisp piece of chalk was hurled swiftly, and with a good amount of force, across the classroom. For a moment, Sirius believed he'd been caught again, for what the professor believed was, sleeping.

He _really _didn't feel like serving another detention during another important Quidditch match, which he absolutely could _not_ miss.

James had almost skinned his arse the last inopportune time he'd screwed around.

But the fleeting white mass was, in fact, not purposed in his direction, keenly hitting the forehead of Peter Pettigrew with expert precision. Glancing down, two people to his left and one seat back, Sirius began to laugh at his stirring friend.

Drool had been considerably close to cascading down the student's openly-gaping mouth, as he too had clearly been coaxed to sleep by the pattering rain pellets on the window and the oddity of warmth in the room.

"Mr. Pettigrew, I believe you should be practicing your sleeping schedule when the time is of most opportunity to you and your house, instead of making a mockery of my lesson." Professor Slughorn harshly reprimanded the boy as the class burst out in raucous laughter.

As Peter began to scramble for his bits of parchment, reddening in doing so, the bell miraculously saved him and, more than likely, Gryffindor House some trouble.

"Padfoot, you are one lucky bloke for skimming off that well. No one would've ever guessed you were asleep, the way you set up." Remus laughed as the many students gathered their belongings and filtered out of the class in small groups. Girls happily chattered plans for that night or the following day, and boys yawned their way back to their respective common rooms.

Sirius smiled sheepishly, but then decided to change that into a smirk. "I try to be the best at what I do." He jokingly winked, turning to see the other two Marauders clambering up. James was laughing himself to tears at the bluntly noticeable white mark the chalk had left on Peter's forehead, spot on.

The other, however, hadn't the faintest clue as to why.

"Oh would you_ can_ it Prongs? It's over! It's_ done._" Wormtail's fuzzy blond eyebrows were beginning to furrow, half in frustration, half in embarrassment.

"Hah, I'm not laughing at _that_, Wormtail." Running a hand haughtily through his unruly mess of black hair, James Potter attempted to calm himself, though chuckles escaped him.

"And don't think I didn't see that stunt you pulled, Padfoot; though you're way better at making it look natural." Prongs playfully thumped Wormtail's back, accidentally making him slap himself in the mouth as he tried to wipe his face. The lot of them laughed simultaneously at their uncoordinated friend.

"Ha, whatever. Let's just get out of here before The Slug gets a chance to corner us." Sirius rolled his eyes and fastened his school bag. Double Potions, every bit miserable as it sounded, was luckily the last of the lessons for the day, though no activity seemed to be appealing as the rain only intensified.

Sirius inwardly sighed in relief; to his good fortune, no one was able to notice a hitch in anything. He ran a hand through his hair, straightening the mass now long enough to pull into a low ponytail.

The group steadily staggered out of the dungeon and began ascending up the many flights of stairs necessary to make their way to the Common Room.

Thoughts from the previous memory he had experienced, and the many before, began to cloud his mind. Prongs' animated chattering, and Moony's lighthearted laughs faded gradually.

Sirius had never been what some would call normal.

Compared to his motley crew of friends, however, he should've been considered the closest example to normal. In fact, apart from Remus' nice-guy face, he was probably the most approachable. But for almost three, going on four, years he's been plagued by…

Well, he didn't really know what to call them.

What do you call being thoroughly hurled, mentally that is, into the minds of people you've never met?

He supposed they could be what most would consider memories, though who knew for sure? Hogwarts was a very elaborate duplex of enchanted people, beasts, and objects; its own self being the prime example. However, how these remnants of people lives and/or subconscious came into play was beyond the raven-haired boy.

Apart from the many ghosts that roamed the grand halls, no matter their origin, Sirius knew none of them had any correlation with his... _problem_. At first, he'd suspected that the memories of the school's specters were scattered around the grounds, just as their bodies had been left to wander.

But that notion had quickly been discarded as the situation turned out to differ from his initial theory. The mind-altering recollections were only confined to the rooms to the building, not outside in any way. The first idea had also left out one very important variable that affected the situation the most:

Sirius Black appeared to be the only person within the walls of the school who was able to witness these memories.

Not only was he cursed to see figments of unknown people's reminiscences, but he was forced to habitually experience them. He was obliged to, in a sense, take part in them, as if there was someone _needing_ him to do so. His question nowadays lay within wh—

"Sirius, watch out!" A frantic voice called from ahead of him. In the split second that was given to him, he realized it was his own name that was being called, not his nickname, by Remus, one of the Marauders.

That only meant danger.

Just as soon as the observation concluded, Sirius successfully collided into a poor unsuspecting girl passing by.

From impact, the two fell onto the paved walkway and groaned simultaneously in pain. From the scattered hardbacks and parchments, he realized she had been carrying an extensive array of books without magic, thus making the fall _that_ more painful.

The clatter had caused the prominent noises of the hall's inhabitance to quiet slightly. Most turned to witness what the matter was.

Sirius sat up from his aching trip, face down, mind you, into the ground and rubbed his forehead for what felt like the millionth time that day. A crowd had gathered to witness what caused the raucous clatter, and a burst of laughter sounded from behind him.

Sirius swiveled to glare at James, who had been more than delighted at the embarrassing scene unfolding. Turning to the girl, he realized he had tripped over the foot of Lily Evans, a nice-hearted girl and a fellow Gryffindor Fifth Year.

And the same person James held the largest amount of fancy for.

The raven-haired teen hardly doubted there wasn't any connection between the overdone bout of laughter and the girl being present.

"Sorry about that Lily. I wasn't watching where I was going." Sirius sincerely apologized as four of her friends rushed to her aid.

He began picking up parchment from every direction and cast a self-conscious look around him every few seconds. Remus also had dropped his bag and assisted in the clean up. As the crowd realized nothing of any interest was going to ensue, the hallway traffic resumed as usual.

"Oh no, it's perfectly fine, I promise! I was the dolt who wanted to prove I could do things Muggle style to bet my friends. I couldn't see over my books." She smiled at Sirius as she tossed her deep red hair that fell into her eyes.

Analyzing the girl, Sirius could see why James had such an affliction for her. She was pretty enough, and held one of the top academic positions in the school. Her bubbling personality made it that much easier to make conversation with her; no matter what kind of teacher, student, boy, girl, or creature you were.

Accepting the apology, the group clambered around the hallway. James seemed to quiet as he noticed Sirius and Lily now talking to each other with ease. Many of the younger years halted and moved out of the way, though it was really the pair of Fifth Years that were imposing.

Just as he had bent to pick up the last piece of parchment, Sirius' insides froze. Time appeared to stop as the edges of his vision began to blur.

The air condensed and became hot and sticky, and the compressing feeling of being forced through a straw returned. Sirius had never planned on experiencing more than the usual amount of memories today, nor should he have. But luck was becoming more and more of an enemy to him as the day rained on. The air only continued to thicken.

"_Oh. Shit."_

* * *

**A/N: I actually ended this earlier than I initially planned on.**

**I found that it was befitting. Plus, this chapter is more of a prologue to what I have planned for further chapters. I know it's short, but hopefully this will help feed your hunger for more! **

**Look forward to more drool dripping, finger licking, supermegafoxy**_**awesome**_**hot Sirius exposition**

**Idiosyncracy[Is Bliss]  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Ughhhhh. My life suuuuccckkkss.**

**Ahem.  
**

**So this chapter was craftily created in the very small time slots I have to myself; yes, yes, I care for all (like, what, one?) of you. This probably is entirely for me to feel better about myself though, so doubtless, I'm not doing any favors to anyone but myself. **

**But that's okay.**

**Honestly, I was a bit impatient to upload this chapter...patience is one of my weaker attributes. But overall, I'm really excited for this story. As long as my schedule doesn't stay too hectic, and I have the right mind to sit my ass down and _type _then we'll be in good business. Did I ever explain the background info on how this story came to be? I don't think any (again, probably one) of you care, but believe it or not, this story came from a dream! My friend KitKatPyrophobia and I just expanded it, throwing ideas, characters, and an ultimate plot into it!**

**Not that the dream really matters at this point, but it involved me going to this museum type thing for the Egyptian culture and the mummies and all that. A very close group of friends and I went there probably for some field trip for World History or something, and we had to pair off. While one of my close guy friends and I paired off and went to visit each of the rooms; what we expected to happen was to come across a recreated tomb of some Pharaoh and have a woman's monotonous voice tell us about things we probably didn't care about. But instead, as we walked into the first room, the scenery completely changed from that of before and we were in some Victorian styled studies, the grand walls and everything. Nothing really happened in the scene; some maids passed to and fro. But all the same we were completely freaked and for some gut reason I just _knew_ we were in a dream.**

**So yeah.**

**Disclaimer: The supermegafoxyawesomehot Harry Potter Series is, alas, not mine.**

* * *

"_No I don't wanna battle from beginning to end_

_I don't wanna cycle or recycle revenge_

_I don't wanna follow death and all of his friends."_

**Coldplay**

* * *

Sirius had checked out for the day.

His lanky, still-growing body had ceased all movement and remained ever too still in mid stride. His eyes, opalescent gray and always glinting with trickery and mischief, became glazed over and dull, his eyelids heavy on his suddenly-stoic face.

Looking upon said expression, there were traces of faint surprise and dread left upon his appearance; his eyes seemed to have began to widen in disbelief before drooping into what appeared to be a sleepy gaze. The papers he had been in haste to retrieve slipped carelessly away from his fingertips and his body sagged to a slouch on his knees.

From across the narrow hallway, Remus Lupin noticed this.

All of the Marauders, even James, had gathered to politely help retrieve the abundant amount of school papers that had been scattered from Sirius's fault in traffic flow.

Lily, the owner of the papers and books, had engaged into an annoyed banter with Prongs; the boy focused probably too much time and effort into her. The two appeared to be bickering over something the curly haired boy had undoubtedly said; he probably even went as far to offend her this time.

Even her friends' attentions seemed to be diverted in one direction or another, striking up conversation with each other or the scurrying Peter Pettigrew.

After surveying the perimeter, Remus realized something was more than off about the situation. Though no one had seemed to notice the black-haired boy's odd behavior and lack of movement, the fellow Marauder knew something had to be done before unnecessary and bothersome suspicions arose. Rolling together the last of the parchments in his hand, the chocolate-haired boy surreptitiously ambled over to Sirius' body. Rounding to face the other, after swiping a quick glimpse to the others, Sirius's body was completely slumped.

Dazed. Uninhabited.

See, Remus was quite an analytical person; he liked to consider himself on a different plane, mentally, compared to others in his Year. The fifteen-year-old boy relentlessly strived to better himself and others, academically. Some would consider that somewhat annoying, or not worth the time.

He, more or less, liked to believe he was doing the world a fucking favor by doing so.

When the four Marauders had first stumbled upon each other, Remus being somewhat dragged into the situation, the dusty haired boy had taken one of his routine size-up stares at the others.

He had been reasonably disappointed at what seemed to be a misguided band of idiots; idiots of who he, astoundingly, got along with well.

If forced to consider someone, other than himself, relatively intelligent, it would be Sirius Black, hands down. Now, said boy wasn't what Remus himself would deem incredibly book-smart, though he was sharp enough to achieve and maintain high marks. Nor would anyone believe he was even relatively gifted.

In confusing, but simple terms, he was good at being good at what he did best.

But what counted the most besides his lack of ambition or anything positive, was that he was daringly, devilishly, savvy. The raven haired boy was probably the most gifted in Hogwarts when it came to cunning, agility, and mental stealth, even over Slytherins, who strived to be the best at those exact terms.

Sirius, on many occasions, arose many situations on the basis of him being a natural trickster; he asked questions not meant to be asked, and caused casual controversy simply by his words.

Sirius Black was ultimately a natural terrorist of the mind.

With all of those attributes, so kindly shaping the boy into all that he was, Sirius was never once seen without an unmistakable glint of trickery in his midnight eyes.

So, in the moment that impacted Remus the most in his fifteen years of life, he was more than taken aback by such the absence of life in the other's obsidian eyes.

If he didn't known better, Remus Lupin could've sworn that he was dead.

Keeping his frantic imagination in check, his logical reasoning came back into play as his mind processed and reprocessed solutions to the dire problem at hand. He would more than definitely ask questions later, but Remus figured if he was in the other boy's position, he wouldn't want to be swarmed with attention and concern from nuisances.

He bent to wrap Sirius's arm around his shoulder, securing his position, and then proceeded to hoist the other's weight to his feet. After standing to normal height, something struck Remus as odd.

Though the onyx haired boy's expression was void and his head even lolled slightly to the side, Remus found that his body still vaguely operated as though it was conscious, moving with more ease than he had expected.

By then, the crowd of Fifth Years had concluded their cleanup session, and Lily was the first to turn and see what the matter was.

"Merlin!" She cried with a twinge of worry in her voice. "What happened to Sirius?" Kat, her ruby red headed friend rushed to her side. James, straightening from picking up a last stray piece of parchment, hastened to the two Marauders' sides; Peter followed closely behind.

Before the hall would spread with rumors and uproar Remus hurriedly threw something of an excuse out, along the lines of "Sirius", "Madam Pompfrey", and "headache", to buy time and calm the arising suspicions.

With two pairs of feet echoing down the paved stone hallways, the werewolf clutched both the school bags and the unconscious Marauder. The grandiose halls had emptied, except the few stragglers, as all of the students had retired to their House common rooms or other classes in conclusion of their school days.

Though the silence reverberated off of the tall stone walls, Remus's mind belted too many fleeting questions, ideas, and emotions. Before his feelings were to get the best of him, he was accountable for Sirius's wellbeing.

'Oh ' His critical thinking process was now resorting to mush and jumbles of ideas as his emotions and anxiety weighed more on his mind.

When worry became fretfulness, and nervousness became primitive desperation, a simple, lone door had blessedly appeared towards the end of the hall.

After being taken slightly aback from the sudden answer to his distraught pleas, in a final resolve, calming his nerves, Remus approached the tall oak-darkened door, and twiddled the brass handle; oddly enough, Filch had forgotten to lock this door.

'Who would remember to in such an armpit of the school?' Remus thought in fleeting humor, smirking inwardly. Hogwarts would never cease to simply amaze him; if he'd more time to ruminate on it, he would consider it rather flashy.

As the heavy wooden door creaked in protest to the sudden force upon it, grey eyes squinted in the dim light and permeated dust. As his eyes settled in the lighting, the familiar tint of flasks, cauldrons, and potions book caused the young werewolf to smile.

Sirius, in normal circumstances, would never be caught dead in a Potions class.

Well, Remus hoped the "caught dead" part didn't take effect any time soon.

His thought process had diverted from how exactly there was an uncharted Potions classroom within the school, resolving the matter as being just another one of Hogwarts' many invariable quirks.

Dropping the book bags near the door, he coughed in the surprising uprising of distilled dust infiltrating his eyes and lungs. Fanning the thick air around him in futile attempt, the boy rushed his unconscious friend to one of the desks towards the front: the furthest from view if anyone were to even happen to come across the mysterious room. Running all plausible situations through his mind in a few seconds, Remus figured he should place the other in a position of credibility. Adjusting him into the seat, Remus had lost balance for a fraction of a second; one of his muscles gave a foreign jerk in protest of him carrying the heavy teenage body. Within seconds, his body had collided, quite painfully, into that of the other, the two boys' foreheads smashing together, causing stars to explode behind Remus's squeezed-shut eyelids.

Remus groaned in pain, chaining a string of profanities under his breath. With one of his wilted arms still within the other's grasp, Sirius's body was in an arrangement which would've caused uncomfortable, if not absolutely awkward, questions.

The dusty haired boy's face was now rested on the lean, toned chest of the other. On his, now scraped, knees, his own torso was suggestively between the legs of the son of Black. Remus found his pulse to incline dangerously, to his momentary resentment, and a bead of sweat formed at his brow.

He didn't know why exactly his body wasn't moving.

Was the heat increasing in the room?

In fact, it felt as if his brain had relinquished all control over his movement. He finally shook his head of the thought, after at last being able to gain control of his heartbeat and body.

The dusty haired boy stood and continued to arrange the boy into a "falling asleep during class" fashion and took a step back to inspect his handiwork; a dull ringing noise was echoing through his ears.

Even if, by some unlawful magic, Sirius was to be seen within all of the dust, any normal person would just assume he had been left in class to sleep during a detention or something or the sort… and a detention wasn't such an outlandish assumption in Sirius's case.

Rushing to the entrance of the room in the back, Remus hastily grabbed both russet school bags and strapped them over his shoulder. He should be getting back to the others before he was missed and suspicions would arise.

After casting a quick glance through the haze of the room toward the other boy, Remus could only pray to Merlin someone normal would find Sirius, if worse came to worse, that is.

* * *

Sirius was pissed.

No, Wait, Sirius was unearthly irate.

He didn't know how or why, but he had ended up irrevocably trapped in, not the first nor the second, but the third memory left behind by some emo misunderstood fourteen or fifteen year old over one hundred years ago. Blinking his dark lashes in the bluish white lights, his head began to swim uncomfortably; the toll these memories were taking had more than a psychological effect. Sirius stepped forward from whatever arch he had been standing under for the first couple of minutes while his vision adjusted to the hazy lighting. His surroundings seemed to be a grandiose tiled bathroom. A large tub, lined in graceful swirls and chisels of designs, sat to the far right along the tall looming windows, covered with wine colored curtains. Water was heard to be running in the bath or maybe some unseen shower, though the source of water was yet to be discovered. The multiple wash basins stood opposite it with elegant designs of what seemed to be serpents.

If Sirius wasn't beside himself at the moment, he would've believed he was in his own god forsaken house.

It wasn't as if his family wasn't Slytherin-obsessed enough. Stepping into the dim lighting, a cool crisp air permeated the tall room and he swept the area with his dark eyes.

The hairs on his forearms and neck were beginning to stand defiantly. Though Sirius didn't necessarily _feel_ when he was forced into memories, his body reacted sometimes to what his mind would portray the area to be like. Even if chunks of the sky fell and everyone is running in pure panic, nothing would faze him.

Though it was quite ironic, Sirius was the specter in the remnants of people's minds.

He was to never be seen or heard; to wander and witness the countless of situations that would unfold in the duration of his stay.

He inwardly smirked sardonically; he had almost made himself out to be something of a guest.

As if he'd even _want_ to go through them.

With his mind wandering, waiting for something, anything, to happen, the boy began to wonder how this (whatever this _was_) began.

He was a doe-eyed first year when it began; cocky enough to inflate hot air balloons with his ego, and prepared for the best years of his life. After meeting the three other boys that would undoubtedly be apart of the remainder of his life, the fearsome four had stalked the halls of Hogwarts.

But as he stalked those halls, something that normally wouldn't happen to anyone, well, _happened._

He didn't know the explanation of how or why, but every room he was bound to walk into, within the walls of the school, would cause his mind to escape his reality, and even his body, to be launched into these…remnants.

He liked to classify them as discarded memories of previous students, teachers, or creatures of Hogwarts; it _was_ an obscenely ancient school.

His mind and body would freeze from whatever activity he was doing. Whether he was taking a difficult exam for DADA or even sleeping a certain sensation that would course through his insides would alert him _it_ was happening again.

He would be forcefully overcome by the choked feeling he had when he felt like crying bitterly; a lump of mass would lodge itself into his throat, causing him great difficulty for speech. A permeating prickling feeling would rise behind his eyes, causing the desire to sob to increase even more; his face would feel unnaturally warm and the hairs on his body would stand on end, as if offended.

That wasn't even the worst part of it all.

After all of the signs would make themselves apparent, Sirius became royally pissed off after realizing it would be happening _again_, the air around him would become dense, making it difficult for him to breath deeply.

As if the space was suddenly being sucked by a vacuum, the black haired boy was forced to wait with loathing for the feeling of being slurped through a straw to ensue. That would be when he knew his mind was officially disconnected from his body.

Sometimes, though his mind was discarded in lonely mansions or love scenes (one of his absolute _favorite_ kinds) His body in the real world would still function as if his mind was still there. He could always tell when his limbs were being pulled or pushed, and normally it would just irritate him more. It really just reminded him how he would have to lie the _fuck_ out of his mouth about why he'd randomly conked out for god knew how long. Overall though, the memories were sometimes almost fun to watch. If he couldn't help it from happening, he should at least try to enjoy them, right?

Wrong.

Some memories only involved as specific room or area, oftentimes no one would even enter the room. In others, there would be a heated debate between a father and son, brothers, and what ever other family relationships there were. In those, the smartass in Sirius would release, making snark remarks on what the debaters were arguing over.

On the less than entertaining memories, however, there was always a death.

It unnerved him in the beginning, those memories. His first memory he fell into was that of a little girl being viciously raped and killed by what appeared to be her crazed father. What was worse, there was no alternative than to watch, listen, and experience the person's pain. As only an eleven year old, he had woken up from said memory in the hospital wing and violently retched on the floor.

Another negative about his situation: he could never, no matter how hard he would try, forget what he experienced.

It would be forever etched into his core and scrawled upon the walls of his mind. Sirius considered himself lucky for not being an optimist; he would've gone insane by all of the dark thoughts that flew through his mind as an emotional effect of the memories. Something clattered onto the grimy white tile and the noise racketed up the tall cold walls. The black hared boy realized now wasn't the time to go traipsing down memory lane.

That wasn't intended to be a pun.

After one more soaking of the description of the area, filthy white tiled floors, serpentine paintings, sculptures, and decorations just about _everywhere_, and large French doors to his immediate right, Sirius sighed in defeat.

All of this didn't even really matter in the end.

After a set period of time, he would close his eyes, the skin on his forearms and the back of his neck would stand on end for a fraction of a second before he was slurped through a straw tight space back into reality.

He would make yet another excuse as to why his body went limp for about ten minutes, depending on where his body was moved (hopefully the infirmary).

Following those precise series of events, he would stalk back to his Gryffindor dormitory, strip into his comfortable black satin pajamas, expensively purchased by his nagging mother, and sleep, therefore prepared for the next day where all of the above events would repeat. Sirius shook his head, averting his attention to the matter at hand. What gruesome sight would he be forced to witness this time?

Before he had landed into the memory however, he'd felt his body be tugged in odd directions and movements, then settling. The black haired boy just supposed someone had attempted to move his discarded body while his mind was on hiatus. Perhaps he had been a bit too conscious at the time and too compliant to correspond with their movements so freely.

But never mind all of that.

Wandering over to the white wood French double doors, he peered through the small window squares.

Thick black darkness smiled back at him.

Sirius let out a small yell of surprise and fright. He'd expected to see another room lie on the other end; perhaps another tall embellished looking study or something of the sort. The cold ominous darkness that permeated the unknown area on the other side of the door had scared his pulse into quickening and caused his hands to slightly shake.

Furrowing his brow, Sirius scolded himself. He was a Gryffindor by darn, and he should be acting like one in such a face of uncertainty. Prongs would probably be laughing his skinny little arse off at the yelp he'd let out earlier.

With the thought of his band of friends to comfort his thinking process, the black haired boy approached the doors once more. By avoiding having to look through the windowpane, and instead looking at his hands, Sirius kept a firm grasp on the silver elongated handles and pulled towards him.

Nothing happened.

Figuring that the doors pushed outward instead of inward, he attempted toe execute that thought. Not even a budge.

"Alohomora" He argued out. Nothing replied.

The sudden feeling of being caged in was unnervingly settling and weighing onto Sirius's mind. It was odd: in a majority of all the other memories he'd been to in all of his stay at Hogwarts, there was ample room for exploration to quell his curiosity. Shaking the eerie feeling from his further weighing onto his shoulders, he retreated from the door and turned.

Only to be stopped, face to face, with the most frighteningly twisted grin he'd probably ever see in his life.

Before him stood another person; a young man, probably not even a day over seventeen. The older was thin, frail and angularly shaped. His long jet black hair fell messily around his face and cascaded down his bony shoulders and back. There were odd patches of black lining different areas of the man's face, arms, and torso, only to lead into what Sirius expected into other parts of his body.

The man continued to grin.

After an accumulative amount of minutes in stagnant silence, Sirius was becoming very nervous. He gulped.

"_I've never seen you before." _The young man spoke, continuing to stare and grin so maniacally at the other. Sirius took a step back, terrified.

Memories were _not_ meant to talk to you.

* * *

**Thoughts?**

**I'm really excited as to how this is all unfolding; I'll try not to have my schedule collide too painfully with the production of the story. Spring Break has done beautiful miracles for me~ Anyway, this chapter was actually way longer and my (quite unofficial) beta KitKatPyrophobia had to slice the roughly sixteen paged story in half. I kind of want to take things slow when it comes to length. As for the actually writing; I'm horrible when it comes to planning.**

**Let me shut up.**

**Idiosyncracy[Is Bliss]**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I had to promise my beta I'd stick to the schedule. I got a bit excited the last chapter but had to slow my roll, so here we are; chapter three and ready to roll. **

**Good news though, I'll keep all of this short.**

**So I give you my written thoughts.**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter ain't mine.**

* * *

"_All alone he turns to stone_

_While holding his breath half to death_

_Terrified of what's inside_

_He crawls like a worm from a bird_

_Crawls like a worm from a bird"_

**The Used**

**The Bird and the Worm**

* * *

Severus Snape was just _so_ tired of people.

He was tired of being misunderstood, put down, taunted, (friendless, repulsive, alone…) and ultimately, he was tired of being the sole one that actually caused all of those effects. That fatigue singed the very edges of his being; serenading his mind with frequent thoughts and beliefs of inferiority. That inferiority was left the marinate in the pit of his soul, brewing and festering hatred for all around him.

It wasn't his fault his limp black strings of hair didn't quite compliment his sallow, pale, angular face. It clearly shouldn't be his burden to carry the name of utter loathing the school only passed in disgusted whispers.

Hell, Severus hardly even knew why he was Public Enemy Number One to the infamous Marauders.

But, never mind those tedious feelings infiltrating his thoughts; he just needed somewhere quiet, calm, and comfortable. Rubbing the bridge of his Romanesque nose in the slight annoyance of the day, the gangly boy adjusted his overflowing book bag back on his aching shoulder.

Overall, the dreary day had only brought equally dreary teachers, lessons, and attitudes. For a seemingly-friendless student, school and its lessons were the only fixations he had going for him; what else was possibly there for him to look forward to? Shaking his head from the cycle of thoughts, Severus continued to trek for a tranquil room.

Severus Snape, one of the top students at Hogwarts, was definitely not feeling sorry for himself.

As of that moment, that is.

His lip curled at the mere contemplation of how his situation ended up in the way it did. All those years ago, he had been in such high hopes to enjoy what he was best at: magic and unraveling its untold stories.

His naivety was probably what caused his ultimate downfall. He put a too much hope in living normally, when his existence alone was an oddity. He just put in too much hope in too many things.

But never mind that.

His footsteps were the only sound echoing in the soaring halls, save for the omnipresent chatter of the portraits (and even they disliked him); the faint patter of rain falling against the windowpanes was the only company he had.

Severus was in dire need of a quiet complacent studying facility; this school term, the year of all-important O.W.L.s, was already showing unkindness to the Fifth Year students. The Slytherin Common Room wasn't showing any signs of hope for studying, its students being ever so raucous in their cunning plans and whatever else they wasted too much time on.

And the Great Hall was clearly out of question.

Glancing up from his prominent stare at his feet, the stringy haired boy had come to realization that the long hallway was closing to an end. A grandiose, embellished windowpane stared back at him.

The sun seemed to have disappeared altogether as black clouds ominously growled and stumbled into the sky. The pellets of rain were steadily becoming fat needles of ice clanging against the window viciously; the boy hoped the storm would subside soon, though it showed no signs of doing just that.

After moments of listening to the comforting ricochet of sounds from the outside, the black haired boy adjusted his school pack once more.

Just as he had made the mind to turn and retrace his steps elsewhere in hopes of his own personal sanctuary, a flash of lightning revealed itself; the imposing glass allowed the white light to illuminate the depressingly gray stone halls.

In the fleeting seconds the flash did appear, a glint of light caught Severus's eye and his head jerked in the direction of it, his reflexes improved over five years of attempting to dodge odd jinxes.

In the far left corner of the end of the hallway, in a seemingly hidden corner, was a tall oak-darkened door with a single brass handle. The appearance of the door itself was nothing extraordinary in the pretentious castle.

In fact, if Severus had been beside himself, he would have assumed it to be another broom cupboard. But something about the looming size and eerie aura of it curiously drew him towards it.

The first couple of steps were nervous. Maybe he should just go look for another place to study? It's not like there weren't hundreds, if not thousands, of other rooms to choose from in the school. But, once his knobby knees held firm for themselves, he carefully paced the short distance over to the door.

In one swift movement, he brought his spindly fingers around the doorknob in a firm hold. Twisting his wrist right, he pushed the heavy door open and it groaned in ominous protest.

Severus blinked his dark eyes as he entered the seemingly-endless-looking classroom. The lighting appeared to be even darker than that of the dimly lit hallways; a lone candle was flickering in the front of the room, trying to repel the looming darkness on its own.

Inhaling quickly, an uncomfortable amount of dust settled into his lungs and his body began coughing in protest. Swiping the gristly strands of hair from his vision and fanning the air around him, he realized the room was almost ideal to what he had needed. Hogwarts would never cease to amaze him.

Wondering if he'd been the first student to discover the room in fleeting thoughts, he walked over to the nearest window and pushed aside the dark curtains, a hand covering his mouth to filter the thick dust. Only a small change in lighting was apparent, but it was better than before, Severus supposed.

He repeated the action to the five remaining windowpanes leading to the front of the room, in a sweeping glance around the room, many flasks and cauldrons dotted the desks; it was another Potions room, to his amazement. Severus had initially believed there was only one Potions room, along with one Potions teacher. Apparently he had been mistaken.

In the area between the tabletops farthest to the left and the windows, he scuttled to the front of the abandoned classroom.

In a sudden jerk, Severus's foot stumbled upon a heavy block of some sort, and his body wrenched forward in his surprise. In the few moments given between the fall and landing, he'd thrown his hands down in front of him to catch himself from diving face first into the hard floor.

The black haired body, on hands and knees, let out a grumble of pain as he lifted his right hand to inspect it, half relieved it wasn't his face stinging with familiar tenderness. The palms of his hands were only reddened and slightly skinned and he sat up, shifting his weight so he could bring his hands together to swipe the dust and get the feeling back into them.

He turned to primarily glare at the cursed… thing that had tripped him so unsuspectingly. Rotating his head to his right, he realized what he had, quite literally, stumbled upon wasn't a block or discarded book, but was a foot.

A foot of which, he saw after he moved his eyes upward, belonged to the body of Sirius Black.

Severus Snape let out a reflexive yell of fright.

His pulse quickened. What were Sirius and his band of troublemaking idiots planning? Was he in a trap? Did he just fucking walk into the trap? The black haired boy's eyes were still widened in fright, half expecting something to jump out of Sirius's body or for a hex to come flying its way to his pale face.

All was still silent in the room, more dust settling itself onto the tabletops.

Severus closed his eyes and attempted to regulate his pulse and breathing. He'd come to realize the other boy hadn't even been looking at him. In fact, his entire body was positioned turning the other way.

"SO, the son of Black has landed himself into another detention." Severus stood from his position backed up against the wall. He sneered at the other for extra measure in hopes to irk him.

No response.

Keeping his scowling expression intact, though it had faltered for a fraction of a second, the lanky boy walked around to face the Marauder properly. Rounding the front of his body, Severus looked upon the lightly pigmented face of Sirius Black. His eyelids were drooped in a lazy fashion; his long black eyelashes were almost resting upon his cheeks, his mouth seemingly about to pry open slightly. His head was comfortably rested on his slender left hand, his shoulders slouching forward.

The bloke was asleep!

Severus scoffed, his face somewhat reddening for having just spoken to an unconscious person so stupidly. He straightened from his body's inclination from analyzing the other boy.

Taking another swoop around to room with his eyes, Severus sighed in defeat; he would just have to return to the halls in his futile search for peace, as there would be none with the looming presence of Sirius Black in his midst. Sirius was bound to be through with his detention any time soon as the time was rounding six. His dark eyes fleeted over to the other boy's form once more.

Now that he was taking a second look, it appeared that Sirius Black wasn't in fact unconscious. Though his eyes drooped, the small slit of eye that was visible appeared to be moving quite avidly, as if he was still awake.

Severus was taken aback at first. He could've just been dreaming or something. But inspecting more into the situation, the other black haired boy's feet seemed to be tapping themselves on the floor, as if he was prepared to leap up and begin running right then and there.

Severus stood back, watching.

"Wait, you're not sleeping are you?" He questioned, half astonished. Sirius's body heaved a great sigh, as if he was irritated.

The stringy-haired boy recognized his behavior vaguely from seeing a group of Muggle teenagers when he was a boy. "Are you... You must be on that Muggle medication huh? Are you using Muggle drugs?" Severus's face illumined in ecstasy; this was it! Sirius Black would be in so much ungodly trouble when he would alert the Headmaster!

Right as Severus turned to hastily run the any off to the nearest teacher, a familiar _'click'_ resounded in the back of the room. Severus squinted at the approaching form through the haze of the disturbed dust. Coming into view was Remus Lupin, the close friend of the inebriated black haired boy. Severus's eyes darted back to the unconscious/heavily medicated/something of the like boy and he hurriedly gathered his textbooks into his book bag.

"Oh good, he's still sleeping!" The Lupin boy exclaimed in what appeared to be relief. Severus clutched onto his book bag strap. Though this particular Marauder never took direct part in the other's antics, he was still one of them. Therefore, he wasn't to be underestimated in his hexing abilities.

"He's on something isn't he?" The stringy haired boy spat accusingly, still slightly backed up from the other.

"Oh that? Madam Pomfrey gave him a potion for his terrible migraines. I suppose it had a drowsing effect on it or something." The dusty haired boy only shrugged, and then continued to advance to his sitting friend.

"You're lying. Why isn't he in the infirmary if he was given a potion? Madam Pomfrey would've loved to have let him stay there for safe keeping." Severus moved around the two as Remus approached.

"Well, as you can see, _it had a sleeping effect_." Remus deadpanned as if it'd been obvious. "She probably didn't know and sent him back to class earlier today. He _was_ in detention with Filch. He probably just fell asleep during and Filch left. What reason do I have to lie?" Remus continued to explain as he bent to lift Sirius from his sitting position.

"I suppose… you can be right." Severus continued to wring his book bag's worn leather strap nervously.

"You're lucky you didn't end up waking him, mate; would've raised the bloodiest hell against you, with his mood swings." The Lupin boy chuckled lightly in amusement as he fixed Sirius's arm around his slender shoulders and heaved. He brought the black haired boy, who was almost an entire head taller then he, to a lazy stand.

"Could you hand that to me please?" He motioned his head towards the area where the other book bag rested.

After a few seconds in passive staring at the pair, Severus obliged and bent to pick up the leather bag. After fixating the bag onto his free left shoulder, Remus smiled in a last glance to the other and began to walk to the back of the room where the door was located. With a sense of finality, the door brought itself to a close with a prominent low _'thunk'_.

Severus only blinked after them, amazed at exactly how the other had, quite smoothly and cleverly talked his way out of _that_ one.

* * *

Remus was furious.

Whatever the hell Sirius was even doing with his mind was putting that much more responsibility on the other. Hell, if he had the arrogant, but endearingly so, one-track minded attention of Prongs, he wouldn't have even _cared_, let alone noticed, what situation he was in!

Though all of these emotions and thoughts collided into each other and raced between the walls of his mind in zealousness, Remus had skillfully kept his expression pleasant when speaking to the suspecting boy and when stalking out of the class room.

Thankfully, Remus had mentally prepared for the worst-case scenario when retrieving his friend. Though, he had also hoped that Sirius's would've awakened since then and would've ambled down to the Great Hall or Common Room at least.

As he turned right to pace down the grand hallway, the dusty haired boy continually shifted the weights on either side of his shoulders. A low string of hums came from the rumbling clouds and thunder outside as Remus continued to half drag the other to their common room.

Sirius was more than lucky that Remus cared enough to collect dinner for him for whenever he would awaken.

Sometimes Remus believed he was too much of a saint for his own good.

Since the beginning of their uncanny friendship, it had been he who had ultimately and surreptitiously taken care of them all; Prongs and Padfoot needed the most attention. Even _with_ the blubbering mistakes of Wormtail, how many times was it that he would actually come up with something to land the four of them in detention?

James and Sirius, no matter how old they would ever become, would never cease to cause mischief.

"Mischief managed, huh Sirius?" The dusty haired boy chuckled to himself, quietly speaking to his friend. Sirius's body, his head lolling to the side, gave something close to a huff, as the pair continued onward. Remus laughed at the unexpectedness of what could be called a reply; he had almost dropped the boy in surprise.

Though no matter how many times would they stumble, Remus would be there to pick it all up.

After a few moments of pride in himself and his mad band of friends, the boy's train of thought reverted to what it had been for almost the majority of the day. The behavior of the other in the beginning of their day had been of utmost normalcy; the four Marauders accompanied each other to breakfast, classes, and the Library to study.

At least, that was Remus's initial intent.

So overall, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Not even the extra effort Prongs and Padfoot had put into hexing some Fourth Year Slytherins. (Remus had to practically rip the wands from their hands to prevent _more_ detentions.) But even as Remus would glance at Sirius in a fleeting motion, (he didn't _watch_ him or anything) he noticed something seemed to be troubling the other slightly, though he never alluded to what.

After some time together, Remus noticed there was always something during the day that would trouble the raven haired boy, if ever so slightly. Remus had always assumed he would just resort to fall asleep during class or in the Common Room. But for some irking gut feeling, the chocolate haired boy believed there had to be something more to that finale. It couldn't just _be_ that Sirius got irritated, despite his natural mood swings. It couldn't just _happen_ that Sirius would fall into a seemingly deep sleep every class period. Nothing could just be accepted like that, not for Remus Lupin.

The werewolf gave a grunt of irritation at the irksome thoughts that danced across his mind, not to mention the soreness of his shoulder.

Turning to look into the face of his charge, his disgruntled expression softened. Sirius's pale face was graced into a look on confusion, his eyebrows raised slightly and his pink lips parted. The lids of his eyes raised and drooped in an odd sequence every step he was forced to take. As loose strands of raven hair fell into his eyes and cupped his face, Remus had forgotten the steps it took to inhale and exhale.

His pounding heart skipped so many beats, it was unnerving.

But what was he really doing anyway? He had halted their trek to the Gryffindor Common Room, and the two stood in resonating silence, save for the dim cracks of lightning. He just couldn't help it at this point though. It was just brotherly concern he was feeling; just worry for his best friend's well being.

That was exactly why he _had_ to figure out what was making the other boy hurt like he was. Only then would he be able to solve what had been plaguing him into oblivion.

Because now, the black haired boy had apparently left his body vacant and only time would tell when he would return. Ignoring the heavy conflicting feelings, Remus knew, without a doubt, that the situation called for desperate attention.

Conclusion: Something was detrimentally wrong with Sirius Black.

* * *

**A/N: I'm beginning to wonder if I should start putting song lyrics in the beginnings and endings of the chapters. I think it'd seem more apparent and powerful if I did; especially since most of these lyrics aren't part of the **_**happy**_** crowd. **

**Idiosyncracy[Is Bliss]**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I get these accidental bursts of energy to actually **_**do**_** something with my time during random parts of my day. It's quite fascinating actually. I just throw on some tunes, pull open Word, and let my imagination have its way with me.**

**Now that we have that established, let's continue.**

**Disclaimer: This is all become all too repetitive. I don't own Harry Potter. **

* * *

"_Sit down, come round, I need you now  
We'll work it all out together,  
But we're getting nowhere tonight__Now sleep, I promise it'll all seem better somehow_

_In time"_

_**Imogen Heap**_

_**The Moment I Said It**_

* * *

The dull blue hue permeating the room appeared to morph into dense fog. It consumed the entirety of the room, indulging it in all of its ominous clouds of smoke, and the many shadows of the corners were swept from view. Though, none of this was probably even happening.

Sirius was choking on, probably, his own breath.

They were more like gasps; the quick thoughts ran through his mind in a fleeting second. His lungs shuddered with every inhalation and burned with every exhale; he assumed that was what fear did to a person.

The wide, black orbs that maniacally stared into his own which were filled with terror, combined with the menacing surroundings were causing the boy to scare himself into oblivion. In the few moments that had passed, Sirius Black was being forced to process all that had occurred since his trek to the lovely picturesque washroom. After a session of trial and error, laced with some accidental encounters, he brought by force to conclude that this memory wasn't a normal one.

Not that any fifteen-year-old boy should be plagued with memories that weren't his was to be considered normal in the first place. But, in that moment, rationalization was beside the point and divulging far from relativity to what was unfolding.

The boy in front of him, within an inch out of his height, pale as the face of the moon, and grinning ecstatically, had just spoken to him. For a memory, this was _not_ supposed to happen. Then again, memories were coined to replay for eternity within the confines of one's mind, and that certainly didn't apply to Sirius. Hell, he hadn't even _lived_ long enough for all these memories to have even happened to him.

"_Will you keep me company?"_

It spoke again.

A tremble coursed its way through the adolescent's body. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath to regain control over his body, what was left of his mind, and the situation at hand:

So the memory _could_ talk freely to him.

"Only if you'd like me to." Sirius felt like he hadn't used his voice in ages, it broke and trickled out awkwardly. He cleared his throat, and brought his averted eyes to meet that of the other's.

"_Arietis_,"The boy forced an introduction, his smile broadening as he extended his hand for a shake. Sirius winced at the grunge of his palm and fingers. Whatever disease the boy was suffering from was quite apparent by the blackened patches on his skin and his surroundings. Black filth situated itself beneath his already cracked nails, and his arm was awkwardly angled out.

"Sirius," He inclined his head in acknowledgment, hoping the other wouldn't demand more than that. As the silence passed between the two, Sirius's mind was tripping over itself in fear, desperation, confusion, and ultimately, curiosity. The other boy had only trousers to clothe him; stained and torn at that.

"_You're not singing or dancing like the others did_."Arietis twirled in his spot, and said in a dreamily sing-song tone. He couldn't look happier, momentarily, that is.

"S-sing? Who sings to you?" Sirius, not even trying to be rude, took a few paces back in caution. "You're here alone aren't you?" As the words escaped his mouth, the other startlingly went still, and his expression grim.

"_I'm _not_ alone. They said I wouldn't be." _The happily dancing boy had vanished in fractions of a second, only to be replaced with a thundering aura. His contagiously maniacal grin had been swept cleanly from his face, and his fists clenched at his sides. Arietis's body became guarded, his shoulders shaking as if a draft had wafted through the room.

Sirius was terrified.

Terror was the weakest of words he could've chosen in such a situation; fear insignificant. The kind of silence that coaxed one into false security glazed over the room. As the storm brewed violently, spitting flames and hissing curses, Sirius could only stand stint in the caress of horror that grazed upon his body and soul. His back faced the only escape plausible, which was unfortunately locked. He was now facing the countenance of a demon. In a swift movement, the other looked up, fury etched into the very threads of his skin.

"_THEY SAID I CAN'T BE!_" the other black-haired boy screamed, in fury at the unsuspecting teen. An unrecognizable noise escaped his throat and pried his lips open as Sirius was backed into the locked double doors behind him with a sharp jolt. He felt his head spin from the collision with the glass pane, and his vision dimmed.

"I-I'm sorry…" he groaned out, the words tripping over themselves. "You're not alone! I'm here!" The fifteen-year-old boy squeezed his eyelids shut tightly, preparing himself for another assault.

"_I know _that_. So are they_."The other's voice reverted to that of the utmost pleasantness and swept his hand across the room, as if to notion there were other people nearby. Sirius nodded unsurely, his heart and head still painfully pulsating from the boy's vicious outbursts.

As the other skipped off in pure euphoria, the fifteen year old boy was left by himself to recuperate; emotions, questions, and pain coursed through his being. Shaking his head in an attempt to rid his head of the resounding ache, he glanced over to the spot where the oddity was now located. Arietis was merrily applied in deep conversation with a wall, the silvery hue of paint chipping with age. Sirius's onyx brows furrowed in utter bewilderment; what was _wrong_ with this… thing?

A shriek of laughter echoed up the bare walls and into the stone basins, resonating in the room. Sirius flinched with surprise and carefully prodded to the other, nursing the pain in the back of his head. He felt a tepid sticky wetness pool at the nape of his neck; apparently he had been thrown a bit too enthusiastically into the door. Wiping his right hand on his pants, he braced himself forward.

"So… who's this?" After approaching the other boy slowly, Sirius had decided to play the cards he had been handed. It was clear that something was mental about the other, so he figured in order to speed the memory's process, he'd just have to act mental himself.

"_This is my mother. She will only permit me to call her mum in here; she says it is looked down upon to call her such a term in public." _Arietis chuckled as if an amusing joke had been made and continued to stare, enchanted, at the wall before them.

"She's beautiful." Sirius had widened his eyes and let out a gasp of awe in false pretense. The other boy nodded, pride beaming from his mentally-unstable, physically-solid grin.

"Would you mind introducing me to the others?" Sirius inquired.

"_The pleasure is all mine!"_ To Arietis's glee and Sirius's utter repulsion, the other boy had grabbed a deadly firm hold on the fifteen year old's arm, and the two of them lurched forward to another wall of the bathroom. Almost tripping over himself and the ledge leading into the pool-like bath tub, they came to a halt.

"_You have to promise not to leave after I show you." _Arietis turned to face the unsuspecting other. His face had, quite quickly, turned stone cold. Sirius nodded, beside himself.

"_This is my very best friend. But… but he's a Muggle so I was forbidden to see him…"_ He let go of Sirius's arm as his own swung limply to his side, tears welling in his dimly lit eyes.

"How… how did you meet?" Sirius asked gently.

"_I was being _such_ a bad boy… such a bad boy…" _his head began to shake side to side, as if disappointed in himself.

"_Mum… was so angry, I had to leave. Father had already hit me again. It was only in passing. And he came to my aid when I was cut up so badly by father…" _Arietis shuddered as he trailed off. Sirius's hairs of the back of his neck stood alert.

"_But I'm invisible now, so I won't be seen anymore will I?"_ Arietis turned to face him. Seeing him limply standing there, given up hope, with tears staining themselves on his dirty cheeks, Sirius lost all emotions save for pity, and sympathy.

"I can see—"

The air around Sirius lurched violently, altering the space and time around him.

"…_you" _he had meant to finish.

Sirius had genuinely intended to complete his sentence. He had wanted to comfort the other. He had wanted to understand the lost boy, because by doing so, an unconscious feeling in Sirius desperately believed he could, perhaps, find himself.

But as the words trickled from his pink lips, he realized the gash behind his head wasn't so insignificant, and an unpleasantly warm pool had settled itself on his back and shoulders. His knees buckled and he felt himself falling; almost as if he was going through the ordinary transition from memory to real life. The air thickened, condensed, and darkened; breathing became that much more difficult to do: a chore. Blurry thoughts had pranced through his mind in all what felt like a half second before his collapse: his yearn for school, sleep, food, his friends, Remus…

Then all fell to darkness.

After what felt like a time without end, Sirius found his body comfortably situated, and something cool beneath him. His eyes were closed, but he felt as if he opened them, the sensation of bliss would vanish. His mind felt as if full of cotton, pressure building up unpleasantly at the bridge of his nose. He must've made it. He must have finally left the horrid dreamlike memories, and the crying boy. He must've left the terrors, if only for a spare moment of reprieve.

But as his lush raven eyelashes left the paled cheeks to welcome his real life with warmth, a blue hue trickled into view. The realizations were hitting him harder and harder after the first; his body was in fact _not_ situated, but sprawled across a cold tiled floor. The coolness beneath was said floor, blackened with grime and age. And the short-lived bliss he had so graciously welcome vanished.

"_Will you keep me company?_"

The memory was repeating.

Sirius was dangerously near being brought to his wit's end. Whatever time had passed by had felt like an eternity. His mind and nerves were frayed; his thoughts lost all coherency and complete sentences. Unknowing of exactly how many days had passed since his departure of the world that seemed so far away, the black haired boy now sat on the floor in the recesses of the hazy room. His large deep eyes had long lost their prominent gleam and dark purplish half-moons had tattooed themselves under them. With his matted black hair, stringy and dulled by the fluctuating, stifling humidity of the room, buried into his propped up knees, he took in a shuddering sigh.

This now concluded the eighth turn the repeating cycle.

Sirius was just so tired.

The first few episodes, following the precession of the first, he had actually tried to find his way out. His brewing fear became festering anger, and then evolved to primitive desperation. He had relentlessly tried again and again to break, damage, and pierce anything, anything that showed even the slightest hint of escape. But nothing in the impenetrable memory had complied with his attempt at destruction.

After physically exhausting himself to a newfound limit, he'd come to a painful realization that the occurrences from previous episodes would remain as fact for future reference. Prime example, the profusely bleeding gash he was given in his first encounter had continued to lazily trickle out the red sticky fluid and throb with searing pain.

Arietis, in all of his glory, had continued dialogue, actions, and conversation (whether with Sirius or objects) all the same.

It had come to a point where Sirius Black didn't know what to do; he was just so tired of it all.

The fifteen year old boy had never yearned to see _his_ reality, his friends or his school, in all of his life. Not even during the lasting hot summer days when he desired nothing more than to throttle his mother or become a runaway. Seeing as how he'd given up, he was somewhat given time to think about his life until that moment; what were his friends doing? They were undoubtedly worried. Hell, the Headmaster himself could've gotten himself involved and his body could be secured at St. Mungo's for all he knew. The light tugging and touches he felt on his discarded body had long ceased, he must be incarcerated _somewhere_ by now.

But none of that even really mattered, did it? For Sirius would be eternally imprisoned in a memory locked so deep inside himself and the school, no one would ever discover his being. No one would unravel the mystery of the Mental Disappearance of The Son of Black.

Then again, mental instability ran in his family.

As the indolent thoughts trudged across his weary mind, loneliness swept over his body and swallowed it whole.

"_It's lonely, is it not?_"The other boy, shirtless and sickly skinny, had stared peculiarly at Sirius, his tone of complete weightiness. Sirius didn't reply; he was too used to the boy's insanity, oftentimes choosing to ignore any comments or questions launched in his direction.

"_I can't imagine you'll be sane much longer_." Arietis mused, the dreamy sing-song tone filtering back into his speech. _"Maybe then, you will keep me company until they permit me to leave._" Excitement flooded his face; a broad grin distorted his angular features.

Sirius lifted his head from its limp position to glare at the other.

"And why won't this 'they' permit you to leave?" The younger of the two's voice was hoarse with lack of use.

"_I've been quarantined, of course_."Arietis waved his blackened, as if charred, hands in the air, as if to prove his point.

Sirius had been on the verge of launching a vicious reply, his patience waning. But he stopped.

That bit of information was new.

Pausing to regroup his thoughts, Sirius's determination was slowly rekindling.

"Quarantined… It's clear that you're sick, but... blimey, with what causes _those_?" the fifteen years old boy stared at the other in the eyes, hungry for answers.

"_You're quite the odd hallucination!_"Arietis was nearly bursting with exhilaration now; as if he was enjoying the entire encounter as a game.

"_The Plague! Don't you know?_"

The statement had pierced the unsuspecting teen quite viciously, for a reason he wasn't even entirely sure of. The Plague… this memory must be dated back to the fifteen hundreds. But now… now it was all clearing, as if the blue depressing hue itself in the room was gradually lifting.

Sirius suddenly understood what he had to do.

Whatever had caused this piece of memory to lie stagnant within the halls of Hogwarts was beyond the teen, but in order to leave the repeating memory, there was something left unresolved for him to solve. He, in one swift movement, stood, facing the other. Joints in his body hadn't agreed with the abrupt movement and popped and cracked as he regained feeling.

"Is that why you're here? Is that why you're… you're not right?" Sirius's epiphany had bubbled the dull murmur of hope into excitement, and he was now in desperate need for answers.

"_Why, you're supposed to know, Hallucination Sirius._"Arietis's broad grin gradually fell and into a small sad smirk.

It was like the two of them were brothers, finally seeing each other for the first time; one filled with awe and the other with malice. Turning to face Arietis completely, Sirius braced himself forward.

He took a deep breath, now face to face with the other. "I want… I want you to tell me your story, Arietis." As the request deadpanned upon the two, Arietis remained still.

At first his expression was of curiosity towards Sirius, as if he couldn't place what was different about him. Then, fear slowly etched itself into the very lines of his face, distorting the momentarily placid expression. As if Sirius had grown the horns of the devil on his head, Arietis let out a strangled scream and grappled at the air behind him in search for leverage. Sirius was confused as to how the statement upset the boy and attempted to advance on him, to comfort him. Arietis, however, didn't respond well.

"_NONONONO! You are to keep me company and nothing else!_"Arietis was hysterical now. He lost his balance in his fervor to back away form Sirius and fell. If Sirius had thought he could've seen nothing more from the boy before, he was wrong. The connection the other had made with the cold grimy bathroom floor had sent an army of needle like pain to shoot through his skin, biting and shredding his very flesh.

And as the blue melancholy hue seemed to nestle itself once more into the very lacing of the tall walls in the room, Arietis screamed in bloody, ear-splitting agony, writhing on the grunge of the floor.

Sirius was petrified. Just as energy had surged through his body to resolve this boy and his problems and save the two of them, it all was going to end up wrong.

Maybe more wrong than it had before.

* * *

"So this is your mother?"

The dark half moons contrasted and carved with his paling skin.

"She's beautiful."

He was just so tired…

Arietis nodded jovially and continued to stare at the same spot of the moldy chipping wall as he had been for the last…

How many times had it been now?

For a while, Sirius wondered if he could be excused from returning to his life now, considering how nothing was getting done. He had come close, too close, to giving up; though nothing ever amounted to the feeling of hopelessness he withheld now. As close as he had come, battling fatigue and longing, and overcoming it, he had been just as close to extracting the piece of information he needed most. There was something… something that stalled the memory into eternal lapsing, confining those involved.

Sirius Black just happened to be one of the terribly unfortunate souls in the world.

Aside from the wallowing in self-pity he and the world should probably have had for himself, he couldn't bring himself to feel anything but raw determination. With his head continuously throbbing, as was the memory itself, no other emotion or longing was left beside the almost numbing desire to _escape_. The chaffing, almost parasitic feeling to leave himself, his confines, his mind was overwhelming. No one would come to see to him, no one would come to rescue him. Sirius was on his own in this. Was this what being an adult was? Was this what his family had gone through some point in time?

Was this what Arietis felt every cycle he was forced to repeat?

The thought deadpanned on Sirius, his now-dull eyes suddenly widening at his own emotional epiphany. Bringing his eyes to the face of the other, Arietis now looked saner than Sirius had ever seen him. He had a small, sympathetic smile on his lips, his eyes appreciative.

"_Now, do you understand?_"His voice seemed to echo up and along the decaying walls, his age seemingly becoming more defined. It was as if the longer he stayed in the fray of the memory, the more of the old life he knew was replaced with this one which wasn't his. Seeing him clearly, Arietis probably wasn't even Sirius's age; the rounded cheeks under the black rotting sores of his face had hardly seen a year past eleven. He was tall, doubtless, dangerous, too much so, but all the same…

He was just a boy.

"I… I think I do." A wave of characteristic Gryffindor bravery had deluged his exhausted body and mind; Sirius fully faced the other yet again.

"_You are—were—afraid. You are afraid of being alone, as I have been for forty bleeding days._"The younger boy's voice was soft, almost a whisper.

"Black Death." Sirius egged him on, thirsting for more information; this was it.

"_Mother had taken such care of her children not to be sick, but no amount of magic can forever protect you against Death himself. The Black Death especially." _He chuckled, as if there was some derisive joke behind the statement.

"And—and afterwards?" Sirius's voice broke in anticipation.

"_I was already a disgrace to the family name. It was a chance for them to lock me away without questions arising._"A visible shudder coursed through his angular body, the ghost of what the child he probably once was seen for a fraction of a second. Without control of his own body, Sirius's mirrored the chilling movement.

"_And… as I ask them, _beg_ them, to let me free, care for me, before I lose myself to this death... they only tell me that I have…_

_Forty more days."_

After waiting, hours, maybe even days, Sirius's heart skipped for many reasons; some unknown, others indescribable, but one of the numbering thundering heart beats told him to wait only a few moments more. In fact, he could already feel the familiar air thickening, and breathing became slowly more difficult. If he would've had the time to laugh, Sirius would; now that he was probably leaving, never to see this room, its gothic contents, and the trapped boy inside, he found himself not wanting to leave. Not until he had his answers.

Clear, purifying, tears were brimming along the boy's long dark eye lashes, his face forced into an ironic, miserable smile.

"I just don't want to die alone, Sirius."

Arietis's words had, for the only time since their chance encounter, ceased to echo ominously. Instead there was a thunder of solidity to it. Nothing more or less was displayed than that of unrefined emotion; fear. At that, something in said boy broke. Perhaps it was from his weariness, his fatigue. But the emotions Sirius had been so focused to relieve himself from, devastated him with such raw force that it _hurt_.

"_Don't you know? You're not alone; I've been here the entire time, Arietis." _Was it his own voice, a foreign noise to him now, the one that echoed? Time and space seemed to be eluding him. _"Be strong, you'll have to get through this now, if I say you can." _Sirius choked out a forced laugh, fighting to maintain the falsely cheerful smile over his now-uncontrollable streams of tears. Arietis smiled, a somewhat reborn innocence shined on his dimming face; Sirius was struggling to maintain consciousness.

"And when I do, The Black Family won't have to fear the Black Death."

Sirius Black left all matter and mind behind, as he fell into blissful darkness.

* * *

"I think… coming round… a teacher… pulse?"

Noises.

Sloppily blending into words sledged his head like a steel hammer.

"Siri… okay right?... when…"

He hurt.

"…Rius!... Sirius!"

Maybe he wasn't void of hearing after all. Distinct taps of footsteps, clothes shuffling, and a change in weight to his side brought the dreaming boy back into reality. He felt so warm, so cozy. Why should he open his eyes now?

It might turn out to just be another memory.

His breathing becoming more shallow and shaken, Sirius brought his long lashes from their rest of his cheeks and opened his eyes slowly. The little light gasping for breath in the room had even burnt his frail eyes; he winced at the simple pain of it all. To his right… was someone... crying? Ahead of him… someone was pacing. The faces of these forming bodies had yet to take shape, though, for a fleeting moment, Sirius doubted he would remember them.

A warm mass was lying against his chest, and when his eyes came into clearer focus, it was a head. He let out a small groan of agony when the tenderness of the message of pain was sent to his brain. The head abruptly arose, the footsteps ceased their pacing, and four pairs of eyes were now distinguishable onto him. James, Peter, Lily,

Remus.

He could hear James mutter something in awe, Peter was shaking without control, Lily, the farthest from him, could be seen with her face buried in her hands; Remus, straw haired, slender faced, caring, Remus strengthened his hold on the sweat drenched bed sheets and let out an emotional gasp. Widening his eyes to take in his sights, relieved, simply relieved, at the sight of them, a small, weak smile crept onto his lips in reassurance.

And not even a moment after, with every last emotion, thought, and ounce of energy he could scrounge up from the physical, mental, and emotional trials, Sirius was not even given a moment of reprieve.

For he retched every last bit of his soul and mind.

* * *

"_It's not even light out,_

_But you've somewhere to be._

_No hesitation._

_No I've never seen you like this_

_And I don't like it,_

_I don't like it,_

_I don't like it at all."_

**Imogen Heap**

**The Moment I Said It**

* * *

**A/N: Soooo, yeah.**

**I hope a good portion of people at least enjoyed.**

**Idiosyncracy[Is Bliss]**


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